


So Far Your Nearness Reaches

by grabtaire



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Boners, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Content, Underage - Freeform, angst but mostly sexy feelings, enj is 26 R is 17, enjolras is okay at emotion, grantaire doesnt give a flippity flop about classes, or thats what he wants u to think
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 14:45:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1230352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grabtaire/pseuds/grabtaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's an assembly for the Seniors at Grantaire's high school, and Enjolras is one of the guest speakers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Far Your Nearness Reaches

Apparently, today was assembly day for the seniors. Eponine had already ascertained that Grantaire would be present, because by her judgment, “he could use the fucking guidance”. This had been hissed harshly and _directly_ in his ear- thanks, Ep- as she’d pulled him from behind the storage bins by the tennis courts.

Eponine had wanted to sit at the front of the small auditorium with Cosette and had graciously let Grantaire sit in the back. A measly 40 chairs had been set up since only two elective classes were actually going to the assembly each period that day, so even though he had tried to tuck himself away in the far back corner, Grantaire could make out every feature of the line of speakers on the other side of the auditorium.

Which- _shit_. Because as they went down the line, his eyes made contact with those of the most angelic creature he had ever seen. Sharp blue eyes framed by lashes he could make out from the opposite corner of the room. And oh God, his _hair_. It was golden and curled and, even in the fluorescent schoolroom, it seemed to be lit as if he were outside in the summer, windswept by some June breeze.

Grantaire had never seen such pristine facial structure, and his body looked to be made out of marble. Grantaire was suddenly very glad that he had been forced to come- as was the rest of him, apparently. He had embarrassingly become half-hard just looking at the ethereal being.

The Golden God had looked away, but the student had expected no less. Still, Grantaire realized he himself probably wouldn’t be able to look away if the Earth were to suddenly go to hell. It wouldn’t bother him anyways; he had already found an angel.

Oh God, had he really just thought that? And as his eyes wandered down to the angel’s hands he decided that yes, yes he had really just thought that.

Mr. Chappell from languages was speaking now, talking about the assembly and how it would provide advice to _aid you as a student and help guide you on the right path in the future,_ and blah blah blah. He introduced each of the speakers, and they all greeted the students with a wave as their names were called.

Grantaire surfaced long enough to hear, “-Enjolras, who will speak about the advantages of activism and how you all can get involved-“, and the angel- _Enjolras_ , Grantaire corrected himself- gave a charming smile, and Grantaire felt himself go harder still, uncomfortably shifting to make it less obvious. He caught Enjolras’ eyes again, and they flashed almost imperceptibly before returning to Mr. Chappell.

The student’s eyes travelled down the angel’s body once more and froze. Enjolras’ hand was smoothly moving up and down the off microphone that was upside down in his hand. It seemed like a nervous habit, but Enjolras didn’t seem nervous, he was still looking at the current speaker coolly.

He did it again, and again. His hand bottomed out at the base, and then slid up to move his thumb over the top. It still seemed like he was focusing on something else entirely, as if he was driving Grantaire insane completely absent-mindedly. Which just was not fair, because somehow- and it took Herculean effort- the student had to actually look away so he wouldn’t cream his pants.

It was just too easy to think of that hand wrapped around _him_ , with strong pumps bringing him closer and closer to the edge, pale blue eyes looking up at him out of thick, soft lashes as the perfect golden hairs’ tips grew darker and stuck to his forehead from a clean sweat, so clean Grantaire could _lick_ it off him-

He planned to take one last look at Enjolras’ face, but was absolutely floored to find a pair of eyes steadily looking back, and a smirk dancing on the edge of those perfect lips. His hand was still pumping the fucking microphone. This went on for another agonizing three minutes, before Grantaire was given reprieve by Enjolras being re-introduced and welcomed up to the podium to speak. He did, in fact, get up, and waltzed over so casually it was criminal.

And then he started to speak, and Grantaire was certain he was going to hell.

 

Enjolras began the opening topics of his informational speech, eyes scanning the audience until they rested on the absolutely gorgeous boy in the back. He looked like he had been up all night having wild sex, with tousled dark hair and shadows under his watery blue eyes. For some inexplicable reason (or maybe not so inexplicable), Enjolras had earlier found himself actually attempting to tease the young man, letting himself appear disinterested, and it had felt so good to know that he was the reason the student had shifted his legs every few seconds.

That image was definitely not welcome during his speech to _high school seniors_ , which, he had to remind himself, _this kid actually was_. So Enjolras moved his eyes away from the smirking student and back to the rest of the audience. He felt pretty confident about what he was saying, having been convinced by Combeferre, who was also going to take a turn to speak, to educate and inspire some potential activists. He had spoken with some of the charities the Amis sometimes worked with and had had flyers on one of the back tables set up with information about the whats and hows of each place.

The back table, which was next to Mr. Rugged-But-Totally-Underage; which he just realized he had actually just thought.

_Terrific._

This was aiming to be worse than that time he was coerced into getting drunk at the Musain and had accidentally gone home with a _Republican_. He had left mid-blowjob when he’d seen the Romney sticker on the guy’s desk. 

He could only hope he was eighteen at least, but all worry momentarily slipped his mind as he noticed that the student had gotten out a water bottle and had his head tilted back, exposing his pale neck, his lips completely wrapped around it. Somehow, Enjolras had managed to keep speaking, only actually fumbling when the boy had let some water dribble out of his mouth and slowly drip onto his shirt. If Enjolras hadn’t been hard before, he was now.

 

Enjolras was taking questions, and Grantaire was feeling really satisfied.

Not in the sense that he was absolutely desperate for almost any available friction on his dick, but that he’d definitely noticed the older man’s stutter interrupting his smooth talk, and even more definitely knew it was because he’d watched him do his trick with the water bottle. And that had given him some confidence apparently, because his arm rose of its own volition.

Enjolras was explaining the finer points of how activism would be considered on college applications to a blushing brown haired girl. His voice somehow remained both smooth and fiery even as he talked about such mundane things. His voice, Grantaire thought, should be used exclusively for tearing down higher powers, not talking about _college applications_. Also, he probably would sound absolutely glorious in bed, demanding Grantaire to spread his legs so he could-

“Yes, Mister…?” Enjolras was saying, raising his eyebrows at Grantaire.

 

“It’s Grantaire,” he was smirking. “So you’ve explained _how_ to get involved, but not _why_. Could you explain why? So far I don’t see the point.”

Enjolras, annoyed already with himself for having a hard-on for some likely underage kid with too-blue eyes, tried to speak as smoothly as possible.

“Well, besides the benefits college-wise, the opportunity to do good and raise awareness can help make it better for people who have it hard-"

“Have it hard?” Grantaire was grinning now. This could not be happening.

“Are in difficult situations and are struggling,” Enjolras rephrased. “Making things better for people who need it is rewarding in itself, is it not?”

“Oh yes,” Grantaire _purred_ , “And I do love rewarding myself, sir.”

Oh fucking _lord_ , that voice _belonged in the bedroom_ ; Enjolras was not equipped to deal with this.

“Well that’s good to hear,” he smiled and tried to not make it too obvious that he was near ready to have Grantaire _right there_ , on the podium in front of everyone if it came to it; he was so out of his head.

Since there were no more questions, Combeferre took his place on the stage, and Enjolras was about to return to his seat when he realized Grantaire was no longer in his own.

 

As soon as Enjolras had looked away, Grantaire knew that there was absolutely no way he would make it through the rest of the assembly. He left through the door to the English hall and walked to the nearest bathrooms, heading into the stall at the end, his pants already half pulled down and dick in hand as he bolted the lock.

He imagined the blond behind him as he put his forehead onto the cool wall and pictured Enjolras’ beautiful hand in place of his own, pumping just like he had with the microphone.

 

Enjolras asked the language teacher where the nearest bathroom was, and was directed to the English hall, where he went in a sort of stupor. He stumbled into the bathroom, realizing distantly that it was odd for him to be so clumsy.

 

Grantaire had managed to get two fingers up his ass and was still pumping with the thought of Enjolras clouding his entire being. He heard the bathroom door open and a voice that made his strokes stutter call out, “Grantaire?”

Convinced that he was hallucinating, Grantaire let out a gasp, and before he knew what he was doing, he threw open the stall door, one hand still working his own ass, and his eyes fell upon golden curls.

 

Suddenly Enjolras was being dragged into the end stall, and was met with a sight that made him almost cream himself right there.

Grantaire, erect dick out, was looking at him out of his heavy-lidded eyes with such reverence, and Enjolras wasted no time pushing him against the locked stall door and connecting their mouths for a few moments, Grantaire immediately allowing Enjolras entrance to lick his way inside. But the older man had other things to attend to, especially conscious of the student’s exposed dick pressing onto his lower abdomen. He turned Grantaire around, separating their lips and hearing a low whimper because of it, but made up for the lost contact by reaching around him in a near-embrace so that he could work the boy’s cock. Grantaire let out a strangled sound as Enjolras pushed his fingers into Grantaire’s mouth, and began sucking eagerly.

“Good boy,” he purred into Grantaire’s ear, moving his fingers from his mouth and bringing them down tease his hole. “Do you want this?”

Again, Grantaire let out a sharp sound and pushed his ass back, pressing against Enjolras’ fingers. But the older man would have none of it. “Use your words.”

“ _Yes_ , sir. _Please_ ,” It was Enjolras’ turn to make a strangled noise, wasting no time pushing two fingers in and pumping in rhythm with the hand that was already working the student’s dick. He pushed his hand up to the knuckle, knowing better than to put another finger in.The burn was already likely too much without any lube to slick the way. Enjolras tried to compensate by working the boy’s prostate as he leaned in to whisper praise until Grantaire shuddered and came all over Enjolras’ hand; going limp enough that Enjolras pressed himself closer in order to support him. Then Grantaire turned around, breathing hard and looking entirely fucked out. The older man was stunned for a second at just how the student’s watery blue eyes looked, framed by those inky and messy curls and half-lidded.

Grantaire dropped to his knees and unbuttoned Enjolras’ pants with his hand, and then pulled down the zipper with his teeth. Enjolras reached to grip Grantaire’s hair as his pants were pulled half down his ass and his cock was let free of the painful restraint of his jeans. One of the student’s hands came to steady his hip, the other working down to the base of his cock.

As Grantaire licked a hot stripe up the underside of his shaft, Enjolras had to hold himself back from bucking his hips. Then the student licked the head and all at once brought it to the back of his throat, his jaw slack and throat completely relaxed. Enjolras couldn’t help himself, he started fucking Grantaire’s mouth in earnest, and found himself purring, “Been wanting to do this since I saw you. You were practically showcasing for me, weren’t you? Offering yourself up as my own, personal sex toy.” Later he would have to explain that he really did see him as a person, but now was definitely not the time. “Lips prettily wrapped around that bottle, and oh you are just as good as I imagined, you’re such a good boy.” Grantaire was back to sucking and licking Enjolras’ cock eagerly, his eyes never leaving Enjolras’.

“So desperate for me, aren’t you? You are so eager to please me. Can’t get enough of my cock, can you?” Enjolras might have been worried that his talking would leave Grantaire unaffected, but just then the student let out a cross between a moan and a whine that sent delicious reverberations through Enjolras’ dick; enough to push him over the edge.

He came in hot spurts, pulling away so Grantaire wouldn’t swallow it, just to be on the safe side. Grantaire let out yet another delicious whimper and came forward as if he couldn’t stand not to have Enjolras’ release down his throat.

 

Enjolras had never looked more beautiful than he did when he came. His head was thrown back, marble throat exposed and the tendons in his neck relaxing. His mouth was parted, and he looked so ethereal. Later, Grantaire would draw that blissful expression on the god’s face for hours, but for now all he wanted was to swallow down his come.

When Enjolras pulled away, he felt confused and hurt, moving forward to try to catch all that he could. But Enjolras stopped him, and Grantaire was left panicking, trying to figure out where he went wrong to lose the privilege of-

“Grantaire, Grantaire look at me,” Enjolras was saying, and one of his hands was on Grantaire’s cheek, encouraging him to look into his eyes. Before Grantaire could look down again, feeling unworthy, Enjolras was rubbing up and down his back and was quietly murmuring, “I’m sorry, I just wanted to keep it all safe, I’m sorry.”

Then he did something astounding; he kissed one of Grantaire’s cheeks, and then the other. He began peppering kisses on his nose, his neck, around his jaw, all the while drawing Grantaire closer, rubbing comforting circles on his back and zipping them both up.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve done this all wrong,” he muttered, resting his chin on top of Grantaire’s head. “You deserve better.”

Now that made Grantaire chuckle. He looked at the older man, feeling better than he ever had in his life, and a mischievous smile pulled its way onto his lips.

“Why, sir! You don’t mean to say you regret this all already?” suddenly Enjolras was grinning at him sheepishly, and _oh my God he has dimples_. That was just unfair.

“Oh my God, you have _dimples_. That’s just unfair,” Grantaire said out loud. Enjolras chuckled.

“Not as unfair as the talent you have with your mouth. How the hell did you even learn that at your age?” but it seemed like he didn’t expect an answer, because he went on to ask, rather seriously, “Speaking of, um, what _is_ your age? I really should have asked you this before, but I was rather out of it.”

“I’m seventeen.” When Enjolras paled, his eyebrows shot up. “We can’t be that different in age, can we? What are you, twenty-two? Twenty-three?” He was typically fairly good at guessing ages.

But Enjolras ran his fingers through his curls in a way Grantaire recognized as stressful, and he was surprised to hear the tired, “I’m actually twenty-six.”

“That really doesn’t bother me.” It was true. How could anything about Enjolras bother him?

“Maybe, but it bothers me,” a crease had appeared between his eyebrows. “What we just did was illegal. I’m all for fighting the system, but that was horribly inappropriate of me.”

Grantaire had to hide his hurt. “So you’re probably opposed to doing this again, huh?” he croaked as casually as he could manage.

“Right,” Enjolras was looking away, his profile lit. “I really am so sorry. I feel horrible.”

Again- ouch. The student forced out a chuckle, “Please do not be sorry. That was great, the whole thing was amazing.” It was more than that; he couldn't remember the last time he felt so happy.

Enjolras permitted him a tired smile, but it looked forced. By then he seemed to realize they were in fact still embracing in an end stall in a high school bathroom, and that he was far above everything he had just done.

They decided to leave at separate times, Enjolras still having talks to give, and Grantaire telling him that he had class (which wasn’t a lie; he actually did, but it wasn’t like he was going).

Enjolras gave him one last peck on the forehead, one that reeked of pity, and was gone from Grantaire’s life forever.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> ... Or was he??
> 
> But really, he isn't. 
> 
> This takes place in the US high school system because I am not familiar with any other. 
> 
> My angelic [beta](http://www.sakura-addict25.tumblr.com) is the actual greatest and I can't thank her enough!!


End file.
